


Arterial Red & Venous Blue

by Arya_Greenleaf



Series: Holiday Smut [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Play, Angst, Blow Jobs, Fantasizing, Hotel Sex, M/M, Mile High Club, Minor Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Rey Solo, Semi-Public Sex, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22732816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: It's alright though, or it will be, because Ben isn't in this hellscape of red-eyed travel alone. He settles back against the plush seat and slides his hand into the cradle of his seat partner's. Ben blushes and smiles and turns away, hiding the pink of his cheeks behind the thick flop of his hair. He doesn't think he'll ever be used to all this. The being with someone, being attached. It makes him feel so desperately warm.Note: Title is a play on "roses are red etc" and not an indication of sensitive content.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo
Series: Holiday Smut [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576459
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this feeling incredibly down on Valentine's Day needing to dump my feelings out into some other vessel and really cooled down significantly since it took such a long time to finish. I'd intended for it to be much more dramatic and sad. Not sure if it's better or worse for not turning out that way.
> 
> There is a reason the first half of this text is a touch out of character.

The sun hasn't yet even bothered to rise when Ben flops into his seat on the plane. His eyes water with weariness and his body aches. He's never been a morning person but this really takes the cake. He's uncomfortable, like there are bugs crawling under his skin -- but maybe it was just that he'd fallen asleep watching _The Mummy_. His dreams had been filled with librarians and scoundrels and the hot feel of their flesh beside his as they rolled in their tent set down on the sun-baked sand. His waking mind seemed to have attached itself to the pretty jeweled beetles and the doom that followed them.

It's alright though, or it will be, because Ben isn't in this hellscape of red-eyed travel alone. He settles back against the plush seat and slides his hand into the cradle of his seat partner's. Ben blushes and smiles and turns away, hiding the pink of his cheeks behind the thick flop of his hair. He doesn't think he'll ever be used to all this. The being with someone, being attached. It makes him feel so desperately warm.

There is an empty seat beside them. It's like a little bit of no-man's-land between them and the rest of the plane. There won't be any climbing over strangers to use the bathroom or stretch their legs. It'll be a nice seven hours, Ben supposes. The cabin is quiet. No one is clacking on the keys of a laptop or using headphones with the volume turned far too loud. At the last minute they changed their tickets to business class and it was the best decision they could have made. Why have money if you never use it?

Ben takes his phone out to turn it off. He plans to sleep, there's no reason to leave it on and let the battery drain. There is a notification in the middle of the screen. _Have a safe flight!_ it reads, his kid sister's gigantic sunny grin in the icon beside it. He's not sure what time it is in London right now and whether he should be shooing her off to bed.

"Hux," Ben murmurs and squeezes his fingers. Hux has checked out -- eyes open but mind switched to low power. Ben angles the phone screen toward him and asks what time it is.

"Five in the morning. Didn't you ever learn to read a clock?" Ben rolls his eyes and Hux's lips twitch up into a tired smile. "About ten? Tell her I say hello."

Ben taps out his response and hits send, settling in for the long haul.

He dozes, too wired from his midday nap and obscenely early rising to really fall asleep like he wants to. His forehead tingles where it is pressed against Hux's shoulder. His neck is slightly sore, the weight of Hux's own slumbering head weighing him down. He breathes in deeply and the scent of Hux's subtle aftershave fills his head and chest. He does his best to glance at his watch without jostling Hux. It's only been an hour, maybe two? Ben's eyes refuse to focus for a moment. Two hours. Five still to go. His stomach rumbles and the attendant comes by as if on cue.

"Well, good morning," she murmurs with a smile in her tone. Ben does his best to look at her without moving. Hux huffs out a heavy breath from just above and the attendant snorts softly in amusement. "Can I get you anything?"

"Have you got orange juice?" She nods and asks if he'd like anything to eat as well. "No, thanks. Just two of those."

Hux stirs when the attendant has come and gone again. "This is certainly not how I imagined spending Valentine's Day."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's just one day and Rey is a whole sister." He bends forward and pulls his carry-on from beneath the seat. He's placed himself in charge of provisions and has provided a bounty. Ben plucks a bag of granola from the depths of the messenger bag and passes a juice over. "She doesn't still think we're going to stay with her, does she?"

"No, she came to her senses. There's just no space." Ben thinks of the little flat that he and his mother had helped Rey move into her first year of university. She'd been comfortable and hadn't found a reason to move out -- but several dozen to move her boyfriend in. And now there she was, the prodigy, giving some kind of TED talk or _something_. Ben is proud, there's no way not to be.

Stomach satisfied, Ben tries and fails to get comfortable again. He's gotten a chill he can't shake and he can't seem to get close enough to Hux to steal some of his warmth. The attendant pauses on her way down the aisle and points at the plastic-wrapped blankets that they had shifted into the empty seat. "Just a little secret," she says. "Those are fresh from the laundry." Ben squints in suspicion and she nods. "First flight of the morning from a provisioning city -- everything's fresh stock."

The awkward square of fleece is a relief.

"Spoilt prince wherever you go," Hux teases, speaking around the last mouthful of a cereal bar. He's got his tablet out and he's fishing a pair of those stupid AirPods from his pocket. He offers one to Ben. Under the game Hux flicks his fingers skillfully through, his music is on shuffle.

It's wildly discordant in variety, swinging from classic jazz to metal to bizarre chanting and nature sounds. Ben feels the pull of sleep again with his head back on Hux's shoulder, _Nine Inch Nails_ as a weird kind of lullaby. It's not nearly slow enough to lower a heart rate but not fast enough to make it race. It is consistent, though, and makes his mind fuzzy and blank. Hux shifts and puts the tablet up on the tray table, folding the cover to stand it. He steals a corner of the blanket and pulls if across himself, peeking over the rise of Ben's shoulder to make sure he hasn't stolen too much.

"You can have your own, you know."

"I don't want my own." He hums along softly to the music, not loud enough to disturb the other occupants of the blissfully quiet cabin. "Hmm-mm-mm-closer to _Gahd._ "

Ben laughs and sneaks a few fingers out from beneath the blanket. He flicks at the screen of the tablet and ruins Hux's game.

"You bastard. I almost beat my high score."

"Well, you did it once so you should be able to do it again."

"How did I land myself with the less mature sibling?" Hux turns and bites the end of Ben's nose softly. His arm shifts off of the rest between them and he squeezes Ben's thigh.

"Luck of the draw, I suppose."

"I've got terrible luck, then."

Hux taps the _New Game_ prompt and pauses, looking furtively over Ben's bulk toward the rest of the cabin. The other passengers are all occupied -- reading, sleeping, chatting quietly, working. The attendant is no where in sight. Ben wonders for a moment what Hux could want as he straightens up and peeks over the back of their seats. He must make eye contact with the person behind them. Softly, he asks if they mind if he reclines his seat a bit. They tell him he certainly can and he tips the seat just by inches, thanking them. The hand on Ben's thigh squeezes again, shifting higher. Hux hums very low along with the drum line of the song still playing in their shared earbuds. Was it really this long or had it somehow gotten stuck on repeat? Ben listens a little closer -- ah, a live version had begun to play right after, an accident of the shuffle.

Ben breathes deep as Hux insinuates his hand between Ben's thighs, shoving the heel of his palm into Ben's crotch and pressing the seam of his jeans closer. "Hux," he hisses, his cheeks flushing with heat.

" _Help me,"_ Hux whispers along with the lyrics. He lifts his brow and drops it and curls his fingers closer against Ben's crotch. He turns his attention back to the screen of the tablet. "It'll be about dinnertime in London when we land. Do you want to go straight to the hotel or find something to eat?" His thumb strokes back and forth and Ben has to cover his gasp with a cough.

Quietly as he can manage, Ben unbuckles his belt and slides down his zipper. He slouches in his seat and Hux's rudely encroaching fingers pop the button of his fly. The attendant comes by with a Bloody Mary for another passenger closer to the front. Ben stops his wiggling while she passes but Hux isn't as conscientious. Under the cover of the blanket stretched between them, he shoves his hand wholly down the front of Ben's jeans, skin to skin.

"Fuck," Ben mumbles. The attendant pauses and asks if everything is alright. "Yeah," he nods and jerks his chin toward the tablet. "He just made a dumb move." The attendant laughs and continues on her way.

Hux's hands know what to do without any conscious effort. He knows Ben, knows his body so well. Five years will do that, Ben supposes. Hux moves his arm, elbow poking into Ben's side to give him leverage further down. He keeps his strokes slow and shallow, barely moving more than his wrist and for the rest of the cabin looking entirely innocent with his gaze focused on the tablet screen. He flicks his fingers left and right, the numbers on the blocks he's moving around rising, and pauses just a moment to squeeze just under Ben's crown.

Ben struggles to keep his composure. This is cruel, he things. Cruel and unusual. Hux is chattering about dinner, weighing options. They could go for something light at a cafe since it would only be about lunchtime on their usual clock; or they could really do it up big. "Something grand," he says with a little bit of a smirk as he passes the first round of completion in his game. He strokes harder then, leveling up his method of torture as well. "Oh! We could do room service. Have a bit of everything. Already splurging, no reason not to go all the way." He grins and twists his head down to look Ben in the eye.

"Mhm," Ben breathes. "Sounds great."

The music has shuffled into Hux's workout playlist. Ben knows this, with confidence, because it is specifically crafted to run at exclusively one hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty beats per minute. Hux hums along and Ben wishes that the _Supermassive Black Hole_ would swallow him up instead of just making his heart hammer against his sternum while he can't do anything to relieve it.

Hux abruptly closes the cover of the tablet and tucks it safely into his messenger bag beneath the plastic packets of snacks and bottles of water. He turns and presses a wet kiss to Ben's forehead. His hand jerks faster for just a moment and Ben is gripped with fear. The music stopped when Hux snapped the cover shut and now all he can hear is the rush of blood in his head.

"Excuse me," Hux says politely. "Which way to the restroom again? I'm so sorry, I know you said it during pre-flight." The attendant assures him it's not a problem -- more important he got all the safety stuff down than directions to the bathroom anyway. She directs him and her attention is captured by another passenger. "Wait a moment," Hux whispers. "Then follow me." Abruptly, he snatches his hand away and pats Ben's warm, pink cheek with it. "Put yourself together," he says in a low rumble. "Don't make it _too_ obvious."

With a measure of gymnastic skill, Hux climbs over Ben and saunters down the aisle. Ben is frozen for a moment. He's hard and his ears are ringing and his body is on fire. He stretches his legs and arranges the blanket over his chest and lap, hoping it just appears he's trying to get comfortable again after being disturbed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, zipping his fly and buckling his belt. He thanks whatever force in the universe nudged him into wearing his largest, coziest sweatshirt when he balls the blanket up on his seat and stands. It's been enough of a moment, he decides. If the attendant says anything he'll say he just couldn't wait, wanted to get in line before someone beat him to it.

The little _OCCUPIED_ sign on the bathroom door is like a warning. _Don't do this, Ben Organa, don't!_ He knocks softly on the door and murmurs Hux's name. The sign flips to _VACANT_ and the hollow sound of the disengaging lock is like a massive _bang!_ in Ben's high-strung head. The door slides open and Hux's fist closes in the front of Ben's sweatshirt, tugging him inside. With the lock closed again, Hux yanks him forward across the scant inches of space -- it's business, not first-class after all.

"Come on, come _on_ ," he hisses and slaps Ben's hands away. Hux plunks down on the closed lid of the toilet and makes quick work of Ben's belt. The air in the tiny bathroom is chilly when it hits his skin, like being in a pool up to his waist with the water lapping against him. Hux shoves the hem of his sweatshirt up, crumpling his shirt along with it. His hands on Ben's cock are warm and soft and dry and Hux grins like the cat that ate the canary while he looks up at Ben and strokes him right back to full mast.

Hux dives forward and Ben's mind goes absolutely blank. He gags once, twice, and then his head is bobbing and Ben's knees are absolutely weak. He leans forward and braces his palm against the bulkhead, curling his body over Hux and rising half onto his toes to keep from smacking his backside against the door. He whimpers and Hux pinches his thigh hard. Ben ducks his chin into the collar of his sweatshirt, filling his mouth with fluffy cotton to shut himself up.

It's an embarrassingly short span of time before Ben is coming down Hux's throat. It's like a thread that's been anchored in his skull is yanked right out of his body. Hux makes muffled gurgling sounds while it's happening and Ben thinks he might just pass out if Hux keeps swallowing the way he is.

The bright red splotches on Hux's cheeks and forehead compliment his hair nicely when he pulls off. He leans back in the little space he has and laughs softly. Ben knows he must look ridiculous with his sweatshirt clenched between his teeth and his bare belly and softening cock. He feels bewildered and awake.

They shift around each other in the cramped space. Hux washes his hands and wipes his lips with the damp bit of paper towel after he dries them. His mouth tastes dull and salty when he kisses Ben. It's not unfamiliar but in this setting it's obscene. "Give it a minute," Hux murmurs, "then come back to the seat." He bites his lip and looks at Ben's mouth like he has other ideas. "We'll watch a movie."

Ben has to sit to give Hux enough room to escape the bathroom and he's grateful for it. He covers his face and laughs. He thought if he ever joined the _Mile High Club_ that it would be a bit different -- something out of a porn clip where they rattled the walls and shook the plane from the sky. He thinks this was better, a small secret to ruminate over for the next handful of hours. Getting his legs back under himself, he runs the water and splashes some on his face. He checks himself out in the mirror, making sure nothing is askew. Ben grins at himself, a dastardly thought popping into his head. He'll have to return the favor somehow on the flight back home.

The rest of the flight is uneventful. They hold hands like teenagers with their heads bowed close together over the tablet. They snark at each other over the choices the characters on the screen make. As they shuffle toward the doors upon landing the attendant raises a brow and says she hopes they enjoyed the flight. Ben's stomach drops through the floor and Hux snorts, tugging him along into the terminal.

Mercifully, they don't even need to leave the airport. They make their way across the concourse, Ben towing their small, shared suitcase behind them, and walk right over a footbridge into the lobby. It's a brilliant set up and Ben says as much. Hux shrugs, he's been here before, it's not so impressive -- and hadn't Ben traveled all over with his parents his whole life? Planes and hotels and airports should be old hat. It was different, Ben started to argue, but his protests fell on deaf ears while Hux checked them in.

The room Hux has booked is beautiful and Ben can practically hear his credit card weeping to the tune of the conversion rate. No wonder Hux had so conveniently mislaid his own card when the reservation was made. It was no matter, of course, just something to tease about -- Hux was the elder, how did he get to be the sugar baby in this relationship? Ben steps deeper into the room and drops his backpack on the chair. On the table is a brilliant spray of roses, just beside it a bourgeois-looking gift box tied up with a velvet ribbon.

"What's this?" Ben asks, laughing and plucking at the ribbon.

"I called ahead and had some things delivered. Can't have Valentine's without the trappings, even if we are on a sort of business trip."

"My sister is a business trip now?"

"You know what I mean."

"When did you have time to do this?"

"While you were bitching and stalling in the shower."

They laugh and Hux comes closer, reaching around the extravagant bouquet to the bottle of champagne chilling behind it. Ben opens the gift box and the heavy, earthy scent of chocolate rushes up at him.

"Maybe I'll have to bitch and stall in the shower more often." He picks a dark, shiny dome from the box and pops it in his mouth. The shell cracks between his teeth and his tongue floods with the taste of coffee and spice. "How about we enjoy this now and order room service when we're actually hungry?"

"Sounds like a plan." The cork pops and Hux grins. He pours expertly, the foamy layer just kissing the rim of the glasses before receding. "Shouldn't you let Rey know we landed?"

"Shit, yeah." Phone fished from his pocket and turned back on, he makes the call. "No, no," he assures her. "We're going to crash for the night. We'll call in the morning -- we can do brunch and catch up. Love you too, brat."

"Pot calling the kettle black there?"

"Oh shut up," Ben snorts and sips his champagne. The effervescence tickles his nose and makes him giddy.

Their clothes stay on just about as long as the champagne lasts and the bottle isn't that big. The bed is plush and inviting and stupidly large. There's just enough space between the foot of the cloud-like monstrosity and the dresser against the wall to pass a big suitcase through. Ben sprawls, laughing softly and moving his limbs as if to make snow angels in the bright white, blemishless comforter.

"We need one of these."

"We don't have the space."

"We can move."

"I'll call the real estate office as soon as we're home, then."

Hux kisses Ben like he really means it, tasting like chocolate and booze and the spice of the peppery filling in the treat that last passed his lips. Ben sits up and look at him, studying his face too closely. There's a bit of chocolate melted into the corner of his lips. Ben licks it and hefts himself upward and over to bracket Hux with his legs.

Ben can never stop himself from being surprised and delighted over how strong and sinewy Hux is. Watching him from across the room at the gym is an experiment in self control -- touching him skin-to-skin like this feels something akin to teasing a dying man with a sip of cool water. Hux's arms around his waist are the sweetest bondage, his wet mouth around Ben's nipple a small salve for it all.

"I wish that bathroom were bigger," Hux muses. He closes his teeth and pulls until Ben gasps and squeezes his shoulders. "Would have fucked you right then and there."

"You surprised me. I kept thinking someone had replaced you -- invasion of the body snatchers or some shit -- wasn't like you."

"Must be lack of sleep making me delirious."

"You're still going to fuck me, right?"

Hux tips his head back and looks up at Ben with his mouth open in a wide, wet smile. "Of course. Didn't wine and dine you for nothing in return."

Ben lowers himself, settling in Hux's lap. He's always very aware of his weight, of the space that he takes up in close quarters this way. Hux presses him down with strong, calloused hands on his hips, forcing him to stop hovering. Hux watches him, hawkish, while Ben takes his cock in hand and strokes between them. His mouth purses softly and he draws breath in through his nose and pushes it out over his full bottom lip. It tickles Ben's chest and he cannot help but laugh. Hux's focus wavers between Ben's face and his hands and the steel cord muscles of his thighs tighten beneath Ben.

"I hope you remembered the lube," he says off-hand.

Unfaltering, with his voice high and light Ben hedges. "What if I got you off and you fucked me with that."

"Fuck," Hux spits through gritted teeth. He leans away, jamming his hands into the mattress. "Stop." His eyes roll back and his mouth squishes down into a crumpled line. Ben leans in, chasing him, kissing the crinkled corner of his mouth and encouraging him. "No, come on, get up."

Huffy and obstinate, Ben complies. He watches Hux compose himself for a moment and still enticingly hard, he picks up the phone and punches in the number for room service. He bounces his knee while he waits to connect, eyes squeezed shut. "Hi, hello -- yes." He confirms their room number in a shockingly pleasant voice. "I'm not even sure if this is possible, please don't hesitate to tell me no, of course -- we just can't decide where to eat and we're both rather starved. Could we possibly have some bread and olive oil sent up?" He pauses, his knee bounces faster. "Thank you so much."

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Ben even if I thought that was a good idea in the foggiest sense, I am thirty-fucking-four and I have not got two in me."

Ben pats his thigh indulgently. "Alright grandpa. What the fuck is the bread for?"

"Did you want me to just ask room service for a bottle of oil? You do realize how obvious that is." Realization smacks Ben in the face and he snaps his mouth shut around the retort that had begun to form on his tongue. "You have to answer the door. Put a robe on or something, don't give the poor hotel person an eye-full." He squints at Ben, gaze sweeping quickly over him, and tips his body away.

Room service is quick and Ben rushes to throw on the fluffy robe from the bathroom to answer. "You didn't say what kind of bread you preferred, so we thought a small selection best."

Ben thanks them and accepts the tray that they offer, declining the offer to bring it directly inside. Hux clears is throat softly and when Ben turns there is a crisp bill pinched between his fingertips. He trades and hands it over, shutting the door as politely as he can. The bread is steaming when Hux lifts the cover, the scent of it heavenly. Beside it are a covered dish of softened butter and the world's most adorable bottle of extra virgin olive oil. Hux takes the bottle and waves the tray off. His toes are wiggling and tapping against the carpet, his erection just barely flagging. Ben is tempted to shove a piece of warm bread in his watering mouth as he shifts Hux's romantic pre-order to make room on the table. Behind him, he hears the sound of the thin metal cap screwing off of the threads of the glass bottle. Hux breathes a heavy sigh of relief. 

Ben turns and yanks at the belt, dropping his bathrobe in a hasty puddle. It's rather like watching a painting being restored -- the flushed skin beneath Hux's hands turning vibrant and shiny with oil. Ben's hands flutter at his own waist, indecisive. Hux bites his lip and shakes his head slowly. Ben's hands fall and he closes the space between them to heft himself back into Hux's lap.

"Up," Hux commands with a sharp little smack to Ben's rear. He rises onto his knees and Hux lies back on his elbow, twisting to retrieve the olive oil again. He tips a pool into his palm, wetting his fingers and working it between. The oil is fresh and sweet-smelling, the warmth of Hux's hands bringing out the mellow fruitiness of it. He sits back up, ignoring his own cock for the moment, and runs his slick hand up between Ben's legs. His fingers tease and massage, dancing tantalizingly into the cleft of Bens's ass and coming so close to doing just what Ben wants before dipping away.

Hux's palm moves so smoothly against Ben's balls, like he actually knows what he's doing when he squeezes and pulls. Its just a touch malicious and Ben has to laugh, he deserves it. He must rise high on his knees and and tip his hips close to avoid the worst of the tug. Hux makes muffled sounds of offense against Ben's chest, trapped under he heavy belt of his arms and held close in just a bit of retribution.

Hux's fingers slip into Ben's body really much too easily, he thinks. Or, he thinks that he's thinking -- his head is much too full of everything slick and wet and warm and the bubbly fuzziness of half a bottle of champagne and the earthy sweetness of chocolate on the backs of his teeth and the scent of the cooling bread and oil as it soaks into his skin -- fooling himself into the belief that a coherent observation is really reasonable.

Hux's mouth opens against his chest and his teeth are smooth and wet as they slide. His tongue tickles, delightfully unexpected. Ben releases him just enough so that his nose might not be smashed against Ben's sternum anymore.

"Oh, Hux, please -- _please_ don't make me wait anymore."

Hux hums a satisfied sound and Ben nearly asks him to shove all of his fingers back inside again. It's too much of a disappointment to have them gone. Ben lets him have just a little more slack -- just enough to have space to uncap the little bottle and tip the remaining oil right onto his cock. It's so flushed, so hard between them. Hux closes his eyes and grits his teeth, stroking and squeezing the base when it twitches as if to the beat of his heart.

It's so satisfying to sink onto it. Too fast, entirely, the friction between flesh and flesh all but entirely neutralized by the generous lubrication -- but satisfying. A little thrilling even, to have Hux so fully sheathed within his body so quickly.

Ben hugs Hux close again and shudders with gratification with the return of the embrace. The mattress doesn't even squeak, Ben thinks while rides Hux in shallow jerks for the stretch of an eternity, he must really be paying a premium for the room.

They eat the bread and skip dinner.

In the morning Ben can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about the stains on the comforter. He calls down to room service and puts on his best embarrassed voice to confess. They'd been eating in bed, he says. The bottle tipped, he says. They're so very sorry and he'll pay whatever the damage is, he says.

He must be very charming, he thinks as he arranges his hair in the mirror, because they assure him that it's not a problem at all and that they'll send someone with fresh bedding as soon as possible. Ben thanks them and apologizes again, ducking away from Hux's teeth against his opposite ear.

"Come on, Narcissus, Rey has already called twice. If we stall any more we'll get caught in traffic." Hux looks exhausted. Jet lag has it's claws firmly in his throat.

"Well I've already had breakfast, I really don't mind it." Ben grins at Hux's soft blush, already planning to ruin more sheets.

***

"I feel terrible you had to cancel your Valentine's plans, I really do." Rey reaches across the table in the little eat-in kitchen of her flat and pours bright, fragrant orange juice into each of their glasses. She won't let Finn have his back until he plants an indulgent kiss on her cheek. She's picked up a bit of the local accent after being away from home for so long. Ben notices it more now that they're speaking in person. It fits her somehow, like an excellent sweater. "You've got to let me find you reservations someplace really cool while you're here. You're staying the week, right?"

"Mm," Hux hums and scrapes golden, honeyed butter across a steamy warm scone. "We're not really Valentine's people, you don't have to feel terrible."

"We had a drink and made moon eyes at each other and went to bed early." They had, it wasn't a lie. There had just been other things in between.

"Alright grandpa," Rey teases and finally sits down again.

Ben finds himself genuinely interested in the conversation at the table and the banter back and forth. It's been so long since he'd last felt so invested in someone else's work or opinion. Much to Ben's brotherly dismay, Finn is fucking fascinating. He hadn't known much about the guy beyond what he could get from astute googling. The lack of available information was both worrisome and comforting. But now Rey is sitting with the biggest grin he's ever seen and Ben is hanging on Finn's every word while he talks about his research into the removal of some invasive species of mink that's devastating the native water vole population.

Every so often Ben catches Hux looking at him like he wants to say _I told you so_ and Ben can't put his finger on why. They insist on clearing the table and starting the dishes when the four of them have picked every crumb and smear clean. With Finn off to pick up some forgotten grocery for dinner and Rey excused from the room on a call, Ben takes the chance to stage a quick interrogation.

"I have not got a funny look," Hux says. "There's something wrong with your eyes." He's got soap suds in the red-gold fluffy on his forearms. He never does dishes at home.

"Yes, you do. Spit it out."

Hux rolls his eyes and rinses the bubbles off of himself. "You're acting different. Your mood or something. Like you took off an itchy sweater."

"Well we're on vacation, aren't we?"

"No, it's not just Vacation Ben. He's a drunk and a slut with no sense of self preservation." Ben snorts and goes to whip him with the dish towel. Hux dances away expertly and settles in front of the sink again. "You're happy or something."

"Do you mean I don't normally seem happy?"

Hux frowns at the jam-sticky utensil in his hands. "Not particularly, no. At least not when you've had to actually interact with other living people." He grins. "It's Rey, isn't it? You miss her. Or you can't really deal with your parents without her. Something like that."

Ben thinks about it for a moment. He can hear her in the next room, still on the phone. "You're not wrong, I guess. We used to be joined at the hip, honestly. Not the same when it's long distance."

Hux nods and rinses his handful of utensils. "Can't say I can relate."

Blessedly, Rey appears to break the tension. "Did I hear someone say they missed me?" She pinches Ben's sides teasingly and wraps her arms around his middle. "I miss you too, Bun."

Hux snorts in a truly atrocious manner. "Bun?"

"Yes, Bun, don't you dare tease him -- you're not allowed."

Hux mutters something under his breath and Ben manages to get him with the towel this time.

When they settle back in at the hotel their exhaustion is far more of a pleasant variety. The comforter is fresh and the bed is made. The bathroom is sparklingly clean and all traces of the morning's shower are gone.

Ben flops on the bed, a little drunk and very happy and maybe just a bit hard from the teasing he endured in the back of the cab. "That Finn," he says, his tongue a touch thick. "He's a good kid." Hux laughs and picks up one of Ben's feet to take off the shoe. "I don't think I'll do the big-bad-big-brother thing."

"He wouldn't be frightened off if you tried." Hux takes off the second shoe and drops it. "Your flowers still look nice."

"Mm. Have to figure out how to take them home. Reminds me -- take your pants off." Hux ignores him and peels off his socks then plants a knee on the bed and and unfastens his belt. The heavy buckle clanks as Hux makes for the button of his fly. "No, not my pants. Your pants."

"Just the pants? I can keep my shoes and all that, then."

"You think if I eat your smart ass you'll have a dumb one yet?" It's more clever in his head then when it comes out of his mouth, but it doesn't stop Ben from having what he wants.

Heartbeats or breaths or three days later Ben surfaces for air. Hux's thighs are clammy around his head. The soft, downy skin of them sticks to Ben's cheeks. He wishes he could see Hux's face, all beet-red and blushing to match the flushed splotches on the rest of him. His back is nice too though, and Ben is enjoying how Hux's fingers are gripping the flesh of his stomach to hold himself up. Hux is cradling his cock against his body with the other hand like he's been wounded instead of just come

"Do -- do you think you could fuck me?"

Hux wheezes. He shudders when Ben spreads him wide enough to make the skin of his cleft go pink and then white. Ben sucks against his teeth a moment until his mouth is full and spits against Hux's beige-peachy hole. His red-gold hair makes pretty swirls under Ben's thumb, dark with sweat and saliva. Ben pushes his thumb inside and cranes his face forward again, trying in futility to somehow get both thumb and tongue inside with his restricted leverage.

Hux reaches behind, half-heartedly stopping him, and rolls lazily off. He knocks Ben's nose with his knee and Ben tries to find a joke in it. Hux rests his cheek on Ben's still clothed thigh.

"Let me take a nap first," Ben reasons. "I think I finished already."

Hux makes a face and laughs, but his eyes are already heavy, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben wakes to watery, grey light coming through the oatmeal colored curtain. He can hear, very faintly, the television in the room next door. It must be mounted to the wall his bed is sharing. The room is dry and hot. His throat hurts and the bedding is all kicked down and hanging off the end of the mattress. He flexes his feet and the comforter and sheets take the final plunge to the floor. He sighs and curls up, drawing his knees to his chest. His feet have been dangling all night.

The room is modest. It's clean looking and smelling. There's a cheery, light yellow paint on the walls and a complimentary coffee pot on the desk.

Ben lays for a few minutes, listening to the sound coming from his neighbor. He turns on his own television and finds the same station. It's a local news broadcast, neutral enough to be company while he drags himself around to get ready.

The flight had been rough. The better part of an extremely early day on a plane had taken its toll and Ben is having a hard time getting his motor started. Half the problem, Ben thinks, is that he just doesn't want to be here. He wants to _be here_ , for Rey. But he doesn't _want_ to be here.

Rey had asked him and whatever Rey requested, Ben granted, right from the start. And Rey wanted him there so he was.

***

"Aren't they going to livestream it?" Ben clenches the phone between his shoulder and ear and scrubs his grease-blackened hands with a threadbare rag. He swears when he knocks a wrench from where it is balanced precariously. He dances away from it and it clatters against the cement floor.

"That's not the same and you know it. Please? Ben? For me? You can finally meet Finn and we can make dinner together like when you used to come home from school on the long weekends. _Bun_."

That was it, really. The invocation of his kid sister's name for him and her inexplicable inability to say _Ben_. That was all it took to convince him. They'd been joined at the hip since their parents brought Rey home when Ben was ten and his self-imposed exile wasn't going to change that.

"Rey, there's no way I'll get there on time at this point."

"Yes there is. I've checked. First flight of the morning out of JFK."

"As in this coming morning?"

She pauses and Ben can imagine how she chews her lip and shifts from one foot to the other. "Yes."

"Rey." She's not listening, she's chattering excitedly like he's already said yes. " _Rey_."

"What?"

"I don't have any money. How am I supposed to swing this?"

"I'll buy the ticket. I've got the site pulled up right now. You can stay with us, the couch is kind of spectacular."

"No you won't. If you do that I won't come."

"Well then stop being ridiculous. You have access to the same resources I do. I can't understand why you won't use them."

"I won't touch _their_ money and you know it."

"Ben, please." He can hear the quiver in her voice and he knows she's not putting it on. "This is so important to me. And I miss you."

"Send me the link."

The only seats left are in business class. He crosses his fingers and his toes and begs the universe to let him have this one thing when he clicks the payment button. He knows he's just paid his credit card bill but he's not sure if it's been processed yet. He breathes a sigh of relief when the confirmation number pops up on the screen and his phone vibrates with new email. He prints all the necessary papers and locks up the garage before he heads upstairs to the tiny studio above.

He kneels and reaches into the back of the closet and rummages in the safe for his passport. Confident that it's actually valid, he scours himself clean in the shower and drops his body into bed.

He feels like the living dead when he gets into his cab and even worse under the fluorescent lights of the airport. His eyes burn and his head hurts and he hopes against all hope that no one particularly obnoxious is seated next to him when the rest of the exhausted legion at his gate boards.

Ben notices things as he stands in the winding line to pick up his boarding pass.

Although the line itself is long, the airport itself doesn't seem overly crowded. Certainly not as much as the last time he made this trip, to bring Rey to school and help her set up her flat. It had been just the two of them then, huddled close and savoring their last few hours together as a team for a long stretch. She'd checked more bags than the whole family had the last time they were on vacation, unable to edit down her decisions on what to take with her from home in the unspoken whirlwind of anxiety in the weeks before. Ben had mailed a few more large boxes of things once she was settled in as a compromise.

The people that are there seem to be huddled close as well, something intimate passing between them that he just cannot relate to. They are soft with each other. Sleepy smiles and gentle kisses are bartered against baggage claim duties and treating breakfasts. Arrivals flow down escalators and pick-ups sprint through doors. The scent of flowers wafts through the concourse, artificially sweet. Ben breathes deeply and feels as though he has swallowed the viewing room of a funeral home. Bright red mylar floats through the air left and right. squeals of delight and soft sobs of dismay slowly fill out the atmosphere.

Ben glances at his phone. There is a new text message from Rey wishing him a safe flight. He notices the time and date: _Friday, February 14, 2020_

He rolls his eyes and crowds closer to the passenger in front of them, silently urging them to close the gap in the line.

It's not long before he makes it through security and his flight begins to board precisely when it's scheduled to. Ben isn't sure whether the universe is gearing up to fuck him over in some way or simply being kind. He stashes his backpack under his seat and settles in, slouching further down into his sweatshirt against the air conditioning.

"I'm so sorry," someone says from above just as he begins to doze. "But my seat is just there, by the window."

Ben looks up at the tall person hovering over the aisle seat looking back at him expectantly. He's clutching his messenger bag in his hands and has a pair of high-end headphones around his neck. Ben hates himself for just a moment -- his stomach flip-flops and his heart feels genuinely stopped.

"Excuse me?" the man asks. "I sort of need to sit."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." Ben unfolds himself from his seat and slips past, allowing his new neighbor into the row. "Zoned out."

"Understandable, it is the ass-crack of dawn." He slides efficiently into his seat and gets himself settled, scrolling through a wall of emails on the tablet he takes out of his bag.

Ben watches from the corner of his eye, hoping not to be too obvious. He filters though messages diligently, at one point mass-selecting a user group and simply deleting all correspondence. After all of the pre-flight hullabaloo he goes right back to working. Ben's sure with the intensity of his focus that he's the type that flies often enough to have a monthly wifi subscription. Ben's suspicions are all but confirmed when the flight attendant makes their first round through the aisle after take-off.

"Oh, Mr. Hux! I thought you said you were taking a break this month. Didn't expect to see you. You up for the usual?"

"No, thank you, I've brought something with me. Plans changed. Can't say I'm disappointed, though. Too restless without the work."

Hux leaves his headphones off when she leaves and Ben can just barely make out the beat of the music. It's something industrial sounding, not at all what he would have expected from the man with the precisely pomaded hair and impeccable black turtleneck sweater. Somehow, he manages not to look like an utter asshole in it.

Two hours into the flight Ben shifts in his seat. He's dozed again and his entire right leg has gone numb. The person sitting in the aisle seat gives him an absolutely hostile glare when he touches the arm rest in his efforts to move his weight off of the tingling leg, pain shooting up into his hip and backside. To his left, Hux is still working -- this time he's got a stylus out and he's using it to move objects around on a presentation slide, rapidly adjusting colors and contrast as he goes. Just as Ben makes to put his arm on the left rest, Hux does as well. Their hands touch for just seconds before Hux jerks away, apologizing and insisting Ben take the arm rest. Ben thanks him and finally gets comfortable, his leg steadily getting feeling back. He fishes his phone from his backpack and opens a book, determined to do something other than slip in and out of consciousness for the next five hours. He orders a soda and sips it slowly while he clutches the phone close and scans the text.

"Excuse me," Hux eventually asks quietly. "Are you reading _The Little Stranger_?"

Ben draws the phone closer, feeling like he's been caught with contraband. He nods taps the bookmark icon when Hux turns his nose up. 

"That's certainly one I thought the movie was better. She really beats you over the head with the text."

Ben snorts and agrees. "Haven't seen it yet. It is very long winded. I feel like nothing's happened in the last hundred pages I've read."

"Buckle in for a long haul, absolute snooze." Hux closes the application he's been using and slips the tablet into his bag. "Speaking of which, I don't want to be rude -- " He squirms in his seat for a moment, indicating he'd like to turn away from Ben.

Ben shakes his head. "Please, not at all."

Hux nods and makes himself comfortable. He reclines just slightly turns his shoulder on Ben, arms crossed and leg wedged firmly against his bag where it rests against the bulkhead. It's not long before he's obviously drifted off. He looks completely at peace there in his business class seat on a plane full of strangers. Ben glances around and in every row people are chatting amiably with each other or working on some device or reading or listening to music. A young woman across the row is knitting. It looks like she's got nearly half a scarf finished, all pooled in her lap. Ben's skin crawls. He wants to go home -- back to his little apartment above the garage where he can work from dawn to dusk or dusk to dawn in solitude.

The person sitting on the aisle gets up to go for a walk and Ben seizes the chance to lurch out of his seat and head for the bathroom. His stomach is in knots and he doesn't know whether he's going to shit his pants or throw up as the bubble of anxiety balloons in his throat and his body flashes between hot and cold. The bathroom is blessedly unoccupied and he ducks inside. He grips the sink with white knuckled intensity and cycles through deep breaths until he stops shivering.

Ben scrutinizes himself in the mirror. He's pale as paper and his cheeks are splotchy. Against his better judgement, never sure of the sanitation of airplane water, he splashes his face and runs his damp hands through his hair. He plucks the band from his wrist and ties it back awkwardly.

Just a few more hours, he thinks. Maybe he should take a page from Hux's book and try to sleep through it. He's been reading the same page over and over anyway. Someone knocks on the door and Ben rolls his eyes. "Just a moment!" he calls out, stopping to relieve himself and wash his hands before he finally opens the door. He sneers at the person on the other side of the door as he passes, squeezing by in the small space. He has to climb over the person sitting in the aisle seat, who refuses to actually get the hell up to let Ben in.

When they land, Ben winds up near Hux again, waiting for a cab. Hux makes small talk, asks Ben what he's in town for. It's obvious he's only being polite, filling the awkward space of having been seat neighbors that keep getting stuck near each other. He asks if Ben is a student -- he looks like one, Hux claims.

"No, just here to visit my sister. Bit short notice so she gets me as I am." He grins and Hux laughs in a funny, short kind of tone. "Sounded like you're on business?"

"Perpetually. My GP is exceedingly worried about blood clots and embolisms."

"What do you do?"

"Design novel, advanced systems for aeronautics." Ben's eyes must be wide. Hux raises a very haughty brow. "I make planes of all sorts go faster more efficiently."

Ben barks a laugh and his face twists with disgust as he's smacked with a rather large bouquet as a couple reunites out there on the pavement. He's tempted to hijack the cab that's sitting there still running if they don't get on with it. He turns back to Hux. "Something in common then -- I make cars go faster more efficiently. Old ones, usually. Custom engines."

"You're clientele must be as exclusive as mine."

"I bet I don't get paid nearly as much, though."

Hux purses his lips and something really, truly cruel passes over his features. He gives Ben a once over. "I dare say, I don't think you do." A very sensible car pulls up to the curb and honks. "Is this you?"

Rey bounds out of the passenger's seat to a chorus of honks and shouts and leaps toward the sidewalk. "Ben!"

"That is indeed me."

"The aforementioned sister?"

"One in the same."

Hux nods politely and steps away. "Enjoy your stay, then. Perhaps we'll catch each other going back in the other direction."

Rey nearly knocks him over with the force of the embrace she wraps him in and when Ben looks up again, Hux is gone.

***

Dinner at Rey's flat is nice.

It's nice to be wanted and listened to. It nice to be noticed.

She's really fixed the place up in earnest, made it entirely her own. It's absolutely packed to the rafters with plants. The greenery nearly entirely hides the shelves of crumbling antique books. A thick finger of ivy even has the nerve to wrap itself around the little telescope Ben had given Rey when she was young -- toted across an ocean and given a home normally on the narrow balcony.

Ben feels microbubbles of something like happiness in his veins. The effervescence is tempered by the unabashed jealousy he feels when Finn talks. He's smart and successful. Driven. Rey looks at him like he hung the very stars in the sky she can see though the telescope.

After dinner Ben begs their pardon. He needs to shower. He feels like the essence of the plane is stuck to him and his clothes. He's wired. They've had dinner but for his own body's clock it was more like lunch. There's no way he can settle in for the night.

When he emerges from the steamy bathroom, the couch has already been made up with pillows and a spare comforter. It _does_ look very inviting and _maybe_ if he put his head down he really would fall off to sleep.

Ben can hear Rey and Finn speaking in gentle tones. They're not in the kitchen and the bedroom door is slightly ajar.

"He looks like shit, Rey. Something is wrong."

"Do you think I don't realize that?"

"Does he know your parents are coming, too?"

"I'm sure he can put two and two together." Finn must give her some kind of look because she makes a frustrated sound. "Of course I'm worried. I'd be crazy not to be."

Ben cringes. He should have stayed home. Rey would have been disappointed but at least she wouldn't be so upset. There wouldn't be this tension. He feels a fool that he hadn't noticed before, let himself be blinded by his elevated mood.

Ben clears his throat and knocks softly on the door. "Hey, Rey? I think I'm gonna go for a walk."

The door swings open and Rey's smiling face confronts him like he's looked directly at the sun. "I'll put my shoes back on and come with you!"

Ben shakes his head. "It's just jet lag. Gonna go tire myself out. Besides," he says teasingly. "You'll slow me down with those stubby legs."

Rey sticks out her tongue and pushes past him. She plops down on the made-up couch and opens the junk drawer in the coffee table. "Take the key," she dangles the spare from her fingertips. "Just in case."

Ben holds out his hand and she drops it into his palm. "Just gonna use the bathroom real quick."

"Really, if you just wait a sec, I'll come with you. I could use a little fresh air."

Ben shakes his head. "You should get to bed. Finn looks exhausted and you've gotta be well rested to deal with all the Organas under one roof." He grins at Finn where he's standing in the doorway. "I'll be fine, really." He kisses Rey's cheek and darts away toward the bathroom. "Go to bed -- I'll be quiet when I get in, I promise."

Ben closes the door behind himself and waits until he's sure that Rey has gone back into the bedroom. Sound truly carries through the little flat, he's not sure they realize it. He can hear their soft steps and the click of the door and even softer murmuring.

"I'll be back before morning, I swear!" he calls out jovially as he passes through the living room. He grabs his backpack and scoots out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Downstairs, someone is getting out of a cab. Ben hails the driver and slides into the backseat. "Anywhere but here," he says. "Closest bar. Anywhere."

***

Sitting at the counter, Ben cringes. The cab had all but exhausted his funds. The fees at the exchange at the airport had been completely exorbitant and he hadn't had a lot on hand to begin with. He asks what's cheap and takes what he's offered without question.

He's not a drinker. He can't tell if the beer he's sipping is absolutely terrible, objectively, or just not his taste. He sips it slowly and lets his head fill with the monotone of everyone speaking at once and glasses clinking against glasses and tabletops. It's pleasant for a while, like putting on the television for "company" when you're home alone. You don't pay attention to it, but it's there and it's familiar and steady. It fills the silence.

Ben rolls his eyes when the couple that tumbles into the place, breathless and laughing, takes up the empty stools on one side of him. It sounds like a first date. They make embarrassing sounds at each other. The one closest to him keeps elbowing him in the side while the gesticulate. Their excitement is draining.

Ben moves to shift onto the unoccupied seat on his other side, the seat probably still awful and warm from the person who had just departed. He's beaten swiftly to the punch. A tall, broad man in a worn-in leather jacket slides into the place he'd meant to take.

He drifts, not wholly focused on anything particular. The labels of the bottles across the back of the bar blur together. When his phone begins to buzz, it startles him. The screen lights up with Rey's face, extremely zoomed in. Ben swipes at the screen almost absently, declining the call by mistake.

"Fuck _fuckfuck_ ," he mutters and jabs at the call-back button. The man beside him clears his throat. The phone hardly rings before Rey answers. "Hey!" he says in his cheeriest voice. "What's up?"

"Just checking in. You've been gone a while, thought maybe you got lost."

"I -- ah -- I wound up getting a cab. Went to grab a drink." He starts to ramble and he can _hear_ himself rambling. "It just jet lag, timezone, whatever. You know? It's just barely dinnertime as far as my body is concerned. Didn't want to bother you guys. I promise, I'm fine, Sunshine."

" _Ben_ \-- "

"Really, Rey. I'm fine."

She sighs. "Alright. Just get home safe. Don't stay out too late, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The couple has settled into more dulcet tones. They're discussing some issue that Ben is fairly certain neither of them is remotely qualified to discuss. Their gesticulating has slowed. Ben hasn't been jabbed by an elbow in a few minutes.

Ben has just enough cash left for a soda and he takes advantage of it. He finishes his beer while he waits for it, tapping out a nonsense rhythm on the counter-top.

On his other side, the man has removed his jacket. Somehow without Ben's notice, he's draped it over the seat of his stool and sat back down. He's wearing a work shirt with _Ren_ embroidered above the pocket. Ren, apparently, is focused on his phone. Between the rapid movements of his thumbs across the screen he takes slow sips of the pint in front of him. He's savoring the dark ale like it's been a long time coming.

Ren pauses and sniffs and places his phone down. He rolls his sleeves up very purposefully, clearly conscious that he's being watched. His arms corded with muscle beneath heavy blackwork tattoos.

Ben gulps his soda, carbonation fizzing in the back of his throat and making him cough. Ren turns and looks at him straight on, his attention obtained. Ben shakes his head and rubs at his nose, indicating the drink. His face flushes with embarrassment.

Ren smirks and returns to his silent conversation. "What are you having?" he asks after a long moment.

"Just Coke."

Ren laughs, "Not a great place for just Coke."

"Yeah, well, it was here or walking aimlessly around my sister's neighborhood after dark."

The couple gets loud again, something peaking their excitement. Ren leans forward and watches them for a moment and rolls his eyes. "You're obviously new here."

"Mm, visiting."

"Aforementioned sister."

"Yup."

"Fun trip?"

"Invigorating!" Ben pulls his expression into a smile. He's out of practice, he knows. There's too much tooth. He lets his mouth fall again and takes a gulp of his drink.

The couple's volume gets just slightly louder again. There's a phone in the air and Ben ducks to avoid the camera. He looks at Ren with wide eyes and tries to turn his back completely on them. They're recording a video, squawking into the screen about how wonderful their night has been.

"Do I smell sibling rivalry?"

"Not at all! Just confronting all my shortcomings."

"Mm." Ren rolls his eyes over Ben's shoulder, the couple behind rediscovering silence in the shape of what could only be adequately described as a good long snog.

"Are you here by yourself?" Ben asks, trying to relax himself against the edge of the bar.

Ren fires off another text message and smirks. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh." Ben crosses his ankle over his knee and straightens his back. "Lucky them."

Ren snorts out loud and returns to his drink. Ben feels dismissed, a sharp pang of shame dancing along the notches of his spine. He turns back around on his stool and rests his head in his hands. He should go. Rey will worry over him and then Finn will worry over her worrying over him and when their parents arrive there will be worrying _and_ tooth-grinding frustration on all sides.

Ben can't make himself get up. He jabs at his phone, opening and closing applications with no real direction or intent.

He can't sleep on Rey's couch, he decides, and pokes at the screen until the damn thing gets its shit together and starts displaying results for the right location. He's got to turn the GPS on and off again and toggle airplane mode back and forth. It's a good thing the bar has wifi because he can't get a signal otherwise. He scrolls through the hotel listings that pop up until he finds one with fewer than three dollar signs beside it.

He can feel Ren's sidelong gaze, or at least he thinks he can. He lifts his head and turns toward him, taking a breath to say -- _something_. The thought is knocked from his head just as tidily as he's knocked forward from his stool as the couple clumsily climbs off their stools, laughing and grappling with each other in a manner that's probably meant to be _cute_ but is really just fucking obnoxious.

Ben puts a hand out to stop himself from falling, very unfortunately using Ren's shoulder to do it. He shrugs away and Ben is mortified. He glares at the couple as they trample out the door, putting two and two together.

Ben draws himself back up, mustering the very last of his dignity. "Forget whoever you're waiting for. Wanna be my Valentine?"

Ren's brow shoots toward his hairline. He presses his mouth into a line and scrutinizes Ben for several breaths. "Absolutely not," he drawls and looks up to where the door has opened again and a group of people dressed very similarly to himself pile into the room. He rises from his stool and gathers up his jacket and phone. "Look me up next time you're not feeling so pathetic."

The insult that smolders in Ben's gut grows in the back of the cab he calls. By the time he reaches his chosen hotel the back of his throat is aflame with bile. The tiniest bit of relief abates the fire when the concierge takes his card and it does't get declined. He's never been sure about how those things work when you travel -- he'd always been along at his parents' behest whenever it had been necessary to get accommodations or spend. The room for one is just nice enough not to make him want to pry the window open and fling himself into the night.

Ben stares at the ceiling until frustrated exhaustion finally claims him.

He dreams of another self in a different life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't use olive oil if you're going to use a condom, pals.
> 
> I love comments so so much pls give me some of that sweet sweet dopamine.


End file.
